The Devil's Defense
by wild-springflower
Summary: He'd thought he would be in the clear. He'd thought they could finally be done with the hellish topic and move on, but really, when had life ever been so kind? So now Jim was sitting, hands poised over his PAD, wondering just what exactly one could type into a search engine to find compelling arguments defending Governor Kodos' actions on Tarsus IV. (Academy Era)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello all! So, this is my first Star Trek story; which is really weird cause I've been a hardcore fan for quite a few years now. But I digress. Basically, I would really appreciate as much constructive criticism as I can get on this piece. I intend to write more for this fandom in the future and I don't want my characters to be OOC or anything. Another thing, this story was one hundred and ten percent inspired by Annenburg's story Antithesis, so please, if you haven't already, enjoy that story; it's really good! Last, this is the first installation of nine; this is going to be a long ride so buckle up. ;) **

Jim bit back a groan and sunk deeper into the material of his middle row seat, as if the chair itself would suddenly swallow him whole.

He'd thought he would be in the clear. He'd thought they could finally be done with the hellish topic and move on. Unfortunately he'd forgotten about the large-scale project that accompanied the finishing of each chapter. Something about ensuring all the students understood the topic; Jim didn't really care. The only reason that fact even mattered was because it meant they had to spend at **least** two more class periods submersed in a chapter that hit far too close to home for Jim's comforts.

For the past three weeks Jim's Political Worlds Studies class had been covering the Tarsus IV massacre. How someone could spend **three weeks **on said topic was an utter mystery to Jim and had left him in a rather foul mood through most of it.

Professor Krestridge was talking about the importance of the final project, his thin grey hair combed neatly across his rather flat head, and his black beady eyes combed the room for misbehaving students. The man was giving the same speech he did after every chapter they finished. Jim didn't know if the crusty old man honestly just forgot that he said the same thing, or if he purely enjoyed torturing his students with his monotonic teaching voice. The sad thing was Jim knew either option was equally likely.

As it was Jim always chose to ignore the speech, even the first time he'd heard it he had only half paid attention. "-will count for most of your final grade- blah, blah, blah,- Responsibility- blah, blah, blah." He'd gotten the gist of it.

That day Jim happened to be reflecting on his luck, or lack-thereof. Honestly, if it wasn't the Calvin and his father's heroic actions –which everyone knew about- it was Tarsus IV and the massacre that took place there –another thing everyone knew about however Jim's close involvement was something the general public was less privy to-. Honestly Jim wasn't even sure how many people in Star Fleet knew he'd been present; his current professor didn't seem to be aware.

Eventually Jim refocused on the professor speaking too loudly in the small lecture hall filled with less than one hundred students. The man had just mentioned something about a debate and the young man sitting a row in front of Jim and two seats to the left promptly conducted a not-quite subtle fist pump. Evidently he was very excited at that fact.

"Now, I will divide you into two halves."

Jim wasn't sure if the professor was attempting to be funny and failing miserably, or if he was just pain moronic, but whatever the case no one even acknowledged his blatant reference to what had happened on Tarsus.

"This half," the man gestured to the people to Jim's right, "Will argue against Governor Kodos' actions on Tarsus while this half," A dramatic sweep of his arm indicated the remaining students in the room, "will argue for the governor's actions."

The hall was encompassed in an awkward silence before Jim's loud laughter shattered it. Jim's eyes swiveled to glance at his classmates but the laugh soon faded when he saw he was the only one who believed their professors statement to be cause for amusement. His smile was soon to follow, disappearing as soon as his gaze centered back on Krestridge and realized the man wasn't joking. "Wait, what?"

"Tell me Cadet Kirk, did you misunderstand the assignment or do you just have cotton balls lodged in your ears? Your half of the class is to prepare an argument defending Governor Kodos' actions on Tarsus IV."

Jim released another laugh, this one shorter and more disbelieving. "No I heard you fine the first time. I just don't understand how you expect any of us to** defend** the man's actions after having spent all this chapter learning about the atrocities **he **caused."

There were a few mummers and lots of nods by Jim's classmates in consent with what he'd said. Any fool could see they were all confused with their professor's demands.

"I realize it may seem difficult at this moment but go and conduct a little research, you may find there are some very compelling arguments def-"

"Compelling arguments!" It took nearly all of Jim's self-control not to stand up. "The man slaughtered four thousand innocent people and you're telling me there are compelling arguments **defending** his actions? No way!"

There were more nods of conviction and one brave student even shouted a "Yeah!" in support.

"Now students, you misunderstand. You do not necessarily have to **agree **with what you find but I'm telling you now that there are many people in this world who believe Governor Kodos was completely justified in his-"

"Justified?" A female voice resounded from somewhere up and to the right of Jim. She sounded absolutely horrified. Jim just felt as if he was going to be sick. Images flashed through his head: heaps of bodies being thrown into holes, the terrified eyes of all the surviving children, the bones that became increasingly more visible as their food supply ran dry, what the hell was justified about that?

Jim had to fight to keep his breathing under control as his brain reeled. While he was lost in thought, the entire hall had broken out in argument, basically every student yelling in tandem no matter which half they had been sorted into.

"Children! Children!" Professor Krestridge racked his long ruler against his desk causing the entire hall to lapse into slice. Jim barely even registered that the man was holding an honest to god **wooden** ruler, normally he would've had a field day with that fact. "Listen to me now. There will be times when you are captain of your own vessel that you will have to go along with something you yourself do not necessarily agree with. Learning to deal with that fact and still being able to make a convincing argument is a very important skill to have. Now, we will not meet formally on our next scheduled class session but the lesson after that I want everyone to come with their debates prepared. We will be meeting in the large lecture hall in the linguistics building and, as always, it will be open to the rest of the student body. Class dismissed."

Jim stood and gathered his things as if in a daze. Numbly he shoved his way through the maze of grumbling students, some complaining more loudly than others. Jim made it approximately three feet around the side of the building before his stomach rebelled and promptly expelled any and all substances he had consumed that day.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks so much for all the follows and favorites! The point was brought up that the ending of my last chapter was a little abrupt, sorry about that! This was originally going to be a one-shot, and I had started writing accordingly but then, well, my brain kind of threw up all over the paper and nine chapters later it's finally done! I will try to post the chapters quickly so that it doesn't get confusing! Also, I don't own these characters. Sadly. The only thing that belongs to me here are the mistakes, of which there are hopefully not very many! That's all, please, enjoy! **

McCoy unlocked his door, managing not to spill his precarious pile of med books all over the floor. He shoved his way quickly through the door and deposited the stack onto the couch with a relieved sigh. He had pounded on the door but when it became apparent his roommate was either not at home or not willing to get up and open the door, he had maneuvered his stack of books onto his right knee, balancing it dangerously there while he dug around in his bag for his key card.

Even with all the racket he had created he was still met with the same brooding silence of his roommate and, grudgingly admitted, friend, since before he left for a last minute visit to the library. He was very stressed and had a lot of studying to do for several important tests coming up. He **knew** medicine, at least, that's what he had thought, **before **he started all the courses required to be a certified Star Fleet medic. So now he was cramming and studying and juggling regular life all the while attempting to squeeze in time for a decent meal, but did his troubles matter any? No, not when the oh-so-amazing James Tiberius Kirk was having his own problems.

McCoy loved the kid to bits, he really did, but would it kill him to take a step off his high horse and realize he wasn't the only one with some issues? No it certainly would not.

But as Jim's friends McCoy knew that the kid wasn't as self-absorbed as most people believed, he just had a way of focusing on one single problem very intently. He often drowned out distractions from the outside world in a manner that seemed callous. As Jim's friend McCoy also knew the stubborn bastard could go days without eating, leaving the doctor to pick up the pieces and pull his sorry ass back together. And as the pattern seemed to be with all Kirk problems, it would most likely not resolve itself or disappear any time in the near future.

With a sigh of resigned defeat McCoy trudged into his friend's room and tossed the first item his fingers came into contact with at the prone form lying on the bed.

The previously disregarded show smacked into the target's leg with a dull thud, causing said target to snap out of wherever his head had taken him and fix McCoy with an annoyed yet questioning glare. "What?" His voice was weary and the tone suggested Jim very much did **not **want to discuss whatever was bothering him.

_'To hell with that.' _McCoy thought. He hadn't gone all the way in there to be rejected by a biting remark and an angered glare. "What the hell was shoved up your ass and can it be dislodged easily? Or should I prep you for surgery?"

A smile danced across Jim's pale lips but it didn't reach his eyes. "Nothing's been shoved up the ass. Promise."

McCoy awaited further explanation for the sulky mood but when one was not forth-coming he realized this was one of those issues that required a bit more poking and prodding before any critical information would be relinquished. "So what's the problem then?"

Jim shrugged, his gaze remaining fixated on the ceiling. "It's just a bullshit project for that stupid Political History class or whatever the hell it's called."

"That one of those required courses?"

"Yeah."

Depending on what one wanted to do after leaving Star Fleet Academy there were required classes they all had to take. Most of them were awful and a complete waste of time that could be better spent studying for a class that may actually come in handy when they left the academy.

"Tarsus IV?" McCoy's voice was soft, sad, not the voice that normally accompanied the doctor.

Jim's breath hitched in his throat, "What?"

"I wanted to know what had been putting you in a bad mood these last couple weeks so I flipped through your notes. Wasn't much there." The comment was small and just off-handed enough, Jim knew it was McCoy's subtle way of digging for more information.

"I learned most of it orally. I just took the notes so my stupid professor wouldn't get on my case about it."

McCoy nodded a couple times, eyebrows aching upwards in such a way Jim couldn't tell if the man believed his excuse or was just agreeing with what had been said. "You've just seemed pretty upset lately."

"Yeah well, it's not as if that topic would put me in a good mood." Jim snapped, immediately on the defense.

After that cold front McCoy decided it was time to switch topics. Taking a few steps into the room, McCoy plopped into the empty desk chair a few feet to the left of Jim's bed. "So, what is this "bullshit project" you've been assigned?" McCoy attempted to make the conversation lighthearted but by the way Jim sat bolt upright and dug his fingernails into his shoe, which hadn't really moved from its resting place against Jim's leg since being used as a projectile weapon, McCoy could tell this was the heart of the problem. Whatever was truly bothering Jim so much had to do with the upcoming project.

"We're doing a debate." Was his simple yet forced reply.

"Uh-huh." Immediately McCoy's brain began searching for possible topics of debate to do with the Tarsus massacre. An informative presentation definitely, a what-if scenario attempting to prove that all the killing was absolutely unnecessary, maybe. But a debate? "What the hell are you guys arguing about?"

"Believe it or not, half the class will be proving the point that Kodos was an insane evil shit, while the other half has to make that shit look like a good person." Jim's hands flexed and twisted around the material of his shoe with such force his knuckles turned white.

McCoy didn't respond at first, blinking a few times in shock at the information he'd just received. But, no! He must have heard wrong; misunderstood what Jim meant because there was no way someone could support the Governor's actions on Tarsus, let alone argue their point in a debate. "You've gotta be joking." McCoy deadpanned.

"That's what I thought." A smile holding no joy captured Jim's angered features, "But Crusty Krestridge didn't really appreciate my laughing in the middle of class."

_'Shit.' _McCoy thought, his heart constricting painfully at how obvious Jim's discomfort with that topic was. _'No wonder he's been in a bad mood.' _

The doctor didn't want to ask, and he could already guess what the reply was going to be but, well, he knew it was helping Jim to vent to his friend. "Any chance you're on the side arguing against the bastard?"

A strangled laugh escaped Jim's lips before he could stop it and he fixed McCoy with a look that clearly said: 'When have I ever been so lucky?'

McCoy sighed deeply and sank further into the computer chair, all thoughts of his upcoming exams completely forgotten at the moment. "Do you know what you're gonna say?"

"Well apparently, there is 'research' I can find that give very 'compelling arguments' if I look." Jim put air quotations around the exact words Krestridge had said to his class, his voice becoming more agitated with each point. "Evidently there are quite a few people out there who believe Kodos had 'justification' in what he did. Dammit Bones, an entire chapter learning about the awful things this man did and now half the class has to **defend** the son of a bitch!" A predatory growl tore its way out of Jim's throat as he threw his shoe at the wall opposite it. The sole smacked and bounced off the plaster with a satisfying thud but Jim barely paid it any mind as he flopped backwards and shot icy daggers at the ceiling, as if it were the cause of all his problems.

McCoy was at a loss as to what he should do. If it were a physical problem he'd administer a hypo and everything would be fine. Unfortunately he didn't have a hypo to cure the 'asshole professor syndrome'. He coughed awkwardly as he stood; Jim didn't even glance his direction. "Well if you want help with anything, you know."

"Yeah."

With one more glance around Jim's haphazard room McCoy sidestepped the poor, abused shoe resting sadly against the carpeted floor before leaving, closing Jim's door softly behind him.

McCoy trudged into the duo's messy, shared living room and sank into a useless heap on the couch. He wished he could do more for the kid but talking had never really been a strong point for him. His ex-wife knew that well enough.

Without really processing any of the information, McCoy flipped through one of his various textbooks and watched as the hours ticked by.

**Finally **a time which McCoy considered suitable for supper rolled around. At last he had an excuse to get up and **do **something, but not only that, he now had a legitimate excuse to check on Jim. The kid's room had been eerily silent since the end of their conversation earlier.

McCoy honestly didn't care what he ate for supper; he was just happy he could get up and use his hands. Their apartment, while usually littered with trash and the occasional beer bottle, wasn't inherently dirty. It had taken McCoy less than a half hour to clean up the discarded wrappers and wash the handful of dishes still in the sink.

Sorting through the various pots and pans the pair owned, McCoy pulled one out that suited the needs of some sort of pasta dish that had been in their pantry for what seemed like forever.

With efficiency rarely found anywhere outside the hospital, McCoy set the pan full of water on the already warm burner, and pulled out all the supplies the recipe called for. Supper would be ready in a matter of minutes.

"Jim." McCoy called, just loud enough that is was a believable shout but quiet enough that McCoy was certain his roommate would just ignore him.

Excuse firmly set in place the doctor wiped his hands on the dish towel and shuffled to his friend's bedroom for the second time that afternoon.

"Jim." McCoy knocked twice before turning the nob and pushing the door open a crack. Enough so he could clearly see into the room but Jim wouldn't realize the doctor was attempting to check up on him.

McCoy sighed softly when he saw Jim lying in the exact same position in which the doctor had left him. "Hey, dinner will be ready soon."

"I'm actually not very hungry."

"Are ya sure you don't wanna," McCoy searched for the right words but couldn't think of what to say, "Take a break?" He mentally did a face-palm. Honestly the stupid things that came out of his mouth sometimes.

As McCoy was mentally berating himself on his absolute lack of tact Jim sat up, blonde hair sticking up at odd angles in the back. "Nah, I can't. You know, got a lot of research to do. Compelling arguments to find."

McCoy's chest deflated entirely at the rejection, "Alright well, I'll just leave the leftovers in the fridge for you."

He turned to leave but Jim's soft voice called him back before the door had fully closed, "Bones?"

Jim waited for McCoy to stick his head back through the crack before a sad smile spread across his face. "Thank you."

McCoy just nodded before shutting the door and heading back to the kitchen. He classified that as a 'mission sort of accomplished' because while he had kind of helped a little it was glaringly obvious Jim was not okay. Still, he doubted the kid was thanking him for the container of noodles that would be waiting in the fridge for him later that night.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Again, thanks so much for all the support! You guys rock! There is just one thing I want to make clear before we start this chapter: writing in bold with the little apostrophes ' ' around them are on Jim's PAD. Stuff that Jim is meant to be reading out-loud is in actual quotations! Thanks a bunch, enjoy! **

Jim sighed heavily as he plopped into his desk chair. He turned his PAD on and opened a new tab on the internet. He didn't like the project at all and there was no way in hell his opinion on that man could ever be changed, but he was going to try in earnest to complete the assignment as required.

As much as he hated to admit it, Krestridge did have a point. There would be times when he became captain on a ship when he may be required to do things that he didn't necessarily agree with. Dealing with that in a professional manner was a good skill to learn.

_'Okay Jim.' _He thought to himself. _'You can do this.'_ But with his fingers poised over the PAD he completely froze; his mind blank. What did he type into the search engine?

He released a slow breath through his mouth before his fingers tapped over the on-screen keyboard.

'**Governor Kodos-justification' **

Far more links showed up than Jim felt comfortable with but he was **going** to do this. The first link he clicked was written by one of those psycho fans that, for whatever reason, fell in love with people made famous for their horrible acts. It just rambled on about the heroic actions of Governor Kodos and how strong he had to have been in that time of crisis.

Jim closed out the tab immediately and shoved the memories that were threatening to resurface with a vengeance back into the deep, dark pit from whence they came.

The next link was far more tame. The author simply made claims that Kodos alone knew what to do in that situation and he was the only one willing to act upon his knowledge. He mounted the rebellion against the government because they refused to listen and see reason. Yes, killing four thousand people was a hard decision to make, but Kodos had realized that was the only way the four thousand other people on that planet could survive.

Jim shook his head in disbelief. There were no facts, no compelling arguments that could justify murder. It wasn't possible. Still, this wouldn't be the first assignment he'd completely bullshitted his way through.

A third link yielded very much the same result as the second. People liked to simply take the words and excuses Kodos himself had used and reiterate them, spinning complicated webs to try and confuse other people into believing him.

"How's the research going?" McCoy's muffled voice called from behind his closed door.

"I can't believe there are so many people out there who actually think Kodos knew what he was doing."

"Jim, the world is full of crazy people. Deal with that, B.S. you way through yet another assignment, and move on."

"You make it sound so easy." Jim mumbled to himself, refocusing his attention on the web page in front of him. A link he'd noticed just before Bones had distracted him had caught his attention.

'**How Kodos was framed: The true story of Tarsus IV'**

Jim laughed softly as he opened the link; he honestly wanted to see what this author had to say. The title was so insane Jim found he was actually a little excited to read the latest conspiracy theory on Kodos, but as Jim continued reading, his previously lighthearted mood grew steadily darker, a storm of rage brewing just behind his normally cheerful blue eyes.

Not only did the current website claim Kodos was an unsung hero who should be commemorated for his actions and quick thinking, but the author also had the audacity to suggest the four thousand colonists who had been killed had somehow done something to cause their own deaths.

**'Information from a very reliable source alerted Kodos to a growing force speaking against him, opposing his new reign over the planet. Kodos had his men conduct extensive research and found the names of all those involved in the plot. For the security of not only his life, but the lives of the remaining colonists, Kodos sentenced all those involved to execution. Effective immediately.' **

Jim had all but stopped breathing. He had known a handful of those four thousand people killed in the initial massacre, his aunt, uncle and cousin included. They had been the nicest, most gentle people Jim had ever had the pleasure of meeting. To suggest they were part of some secret rebel force that was plotting the eventual destruction of the planet was absolute insanity.

He should have exited the link right then and there, forgotten everything he'd just read, but Jim was too curious for his own good and he grudgingly admitted that the author of the webpage had grasped his attention completely. So, like an idiot, he continued to read.

Jim had just finished a paragraph detailing all of Kodos' beliefs on eugenics and how that would help save the lives of the four thousand colonists left alive when the header for the next paragraph caught his eye.

'**The Band of Renegade Soldiers'**

"What?" Jim spoke softly, gripping the PAD tightly in his strong, tense hands. In all his time on Tarsus, Jim didn't remember hearing anything about renegade soldiers.

"It came to light about a week after the rebellious forces had been crushed that a rogue band of their soldiers had escaped capture and were hiding somewhere in the woods." Jim's breath caught sharply on the inhale as he read softly to himself. Vocalized the lies of someone so clueless and careless.

"This group of renegade soldiers escaped capture and continued to attack Kodos' followers, robbing them of clothes, weapons, food, and anything else of importance found on them at the time of their murder." Jim shook his head softly; not believing what he was reading but wholly unable to stop.

**'The rebelling soldiers posed a constant and ever present threat to Kodos and his reform projects taking place on the planet.' **

"Are you kidding?" Jim scoffed. That author clearly didn't have their head screwed on tightly enough. Those **children **had never been a threat to anyone; they had lived three months of their lives in absolute terror, praying they'd live long enough to see the next sunrise but never daring to give in to the hope that they would.

Scrolling down a little further Jim's eyes widened at the picture that followed the paragraph. It was simply labeled: **'Rebel Leader at His Time of Capture'**. And suddenly Jim was no longer sitting in his bedroom reading some stupid article; he was being roughly dragged out of the woods by two of Kodos' soldiers. Pain flared in his side where a phaser blast had just winged him. He glanced upwards and saw the street camera; he felt its electronic eye staring at him, through him. He had no idea that the stupid thing was still working, that it had just captured a picture that would become one of the most well-known from the whole disaster.

Jim gasped and dropped his PAD on the floor when a pounding on his door brought his mind abruptly back to reality. He missed half of what his roommate was saying simply attempting to get his breathing back under control. Something about the noodles in the fridge.

"I'll be right out." He called, wincing at the breathless quality of his own voice. Picking up his PAD, Jim exited out of all the tabs concerning Kodos with a vengeance, switching the stupid machine off and slamming it down on his desk so hard he felt the tremors up to his shoulder. He didn't really know what he planned to do, but there was one thing he knew for certain: there was no way in hell he was completing that assignment.

**A/N: Hello again, just an FYI, I don't really know how phasers work. I mean, Jim could've gotten just clipped in the side, right? Well, for the purposes of this story, yes he could! ~Until next time!**


	4. Chapter 4

"So," McCoy began conversationally, flopping tiredly into a seat next to Jim at the dining table.

It had been two days since their tense conversation about Jim's assignment. The kid had barely eaten anything since. Even at that moment Jim was just absentmindedly pushing his food around his plate, a trick that **would** have made it look like he had consumed some sustenance had McCoy's eye not been keener.

"You ready for the debate tomorrow? I'm tellin' ya, it's the topic on everyone's lips right now. Because it's so controversial, everyone who can make it is planning to go, even some other professors. This is probably going to be the biggest debate in the history of the academy."

Jim inwardly groaned. "Great." The single word was drawn out and stated in such a way, McCoy could tell Jim's opinion on the matter was anything but.

"How's your side of the debate going?"

Jim dropped his fork with a loud clank against his plate and shot McCoy a glare that clearly read: 'How do you **think** it's going?'

"But you do have a point to argue, right?"

"Oh I **have** apoint." The oh-so-normal words sounded eerily ominous coming from the young cadet's mouth.

McCoy fixed Jim with a wary glance, not quite catching the message hidden behind his words. A promise of sorts. "Well as long as you finished the assignment. You know how stupidly important they are for your final grade."

Jim just nodded his head once. His eyes darted back to the still full plate of food in front of him and, picking up his fork, he began to push the food around once again.

With a sigh and the resigned knowledge that he honestly couldn't help Jim if the kid didn't let him in, McCoy retreated back to his bedroom to continue studying.

Jim's ice cold glare remained centered on a burn in table in front of him, but his mind was far away. McCoy's worries were definitely based in reality; even missing one of the end of chapter assignments could be severely damaging to a cadet's final grade. But Jim hadn't lied to his friend; he **did** have a point to make during the debate. It just wasn't the point Krestridge would be expecting.

**A/N: Sorry this chapter is so stupidly short, but I felt it was necessary for the overall evolution of the story. I'll post the next chapter tomorrow!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hello! I apologize for the delay. I was going to attempt to post a chapter every day but then Christmas happened and I got really busy. Sorry. :( But anywho, here is the next chapter. And finally the thing this story has been building up to happens! There's another note at the end of the chapter. Enjoy! **

Jim followed the rest of his class into the packed lecture hall, feeling an all-encompassing numbness he hadn't experienced in years. Not since his mother explained to him that he would be living off-world for an undetermined amount of time.

He sat down easily a couple rows into the sections blocked off from public use for the students in Krestridge's class.

Just before the debate began Krestridge has assigned everyone numbers, the order in which they would debate, the first person and the last person would debate first, then go on down the line from both ends. Fortunately there was an even number of students in his class so everything worked out. Jim chose to blatantly ignore the fact that he was thirteenth in line.

The debate began and as the arguments commenced one fact became glaringly obvious; there wasn't a soul in his class that could defend Kodos. Even those desperate for a good grade had very weak points to make. Jim could tell everyone knew it as he glanced up at the nervous, sweaty faces of each of his classmates who stepped up to the podium.

The debates were over before they even began but Jim still had to scoff at the points students' arguing the defense side made. The arguments were basically the same and completely off base but it still pissed Jim off every time someone said: "Kodos did what he had to do to ensure the survival of half the colonists." Or "Sacrifices had to be made for the good of the entire colony."

Applause resounded around the full lecture hall then died down as Professor Krestridge took his place at one of the podiums to call the next pair of students. Jim knew he was up before the professor had even called his name; he'd been counting.

His debate partner, a young girl with long black hair, intense green eyes, and **striking **physical features named Ariana, smiled at him sadly as they walked to the front of the room together. Or perhaps it was an apologetic smile; she figured she was going to mop the floor with him. Too bad Jim wasn't planning on allowing her to get that far.

He was ninety-nine percent certain he imagined the way the entire lecture hall quieted as he took his place on stage, students and faculty alike leaning so far forward they appeared as if they would tumble from their seats at the tinniest of breezes. Still, even imagined tension did nothing to quell the butterflies waging war in his stomach.

The word "begin" had just left Krestridge's mouth; Jim's opponent had barely opened her mouth to begin her argument when Jim's sure, strong voice sliced through the building tension as easily as a hot knife through butter.

"Governor Kodos was a monster. And there is no way in hell I am defending his actions."

Mummers of shock spread like wildfire through the audience.

Krestridge stood from his seat off to the side of the room, "Cadet!" He thundered, face already turning red with anger.

"Jim what are you doing?" Ariana whispered, wide green eyes staring at her classmate as if he were insane.

"Not defending the devil." Jim replied, giving her an apologetic glance before focusing his gaze back on his now captivated audience. "Students' shouldn't have to defend an evil man's actions. Kodos' name shouldn't even be remembered! We should be learning about the survivors and most importantly, remembering those who were murdered, **not **the man who murdered them."

"Cadet Kirk," Krestridge called, his voice calm yet angered. "Seeing as how you have not prepared the assigned material I am going to have to request you take your seat."

Jim scoffed a little at that, by the Professor's tone Jim doubted the man was **requesting **him to do anything. It sounded more like commanding.

"With all due respect **sir**, I am arguing a point. It's just not the point you want to hear." Jim refocused his attention to the crowd, "Governor Kodos-"

"That man," Krestridge began, but Jim wasn't going to give him any ground.

"That **man**," The word was spit as if it were poison, "destroyed families. Fathers, daughters, mothers, sons, it didn't matter to him! All these excuses about Kodos acting in the best interest of the colony is complete bullshit."

"Cadet!"

"We shouldn't be forced to argue an opinion we don't agree with!" Jim interrupted.

"As captain you will be faced with many scenarios you don't agree with and you won't be able to change them!" Krestridge's face was beet-red, spittle flew from his mouth as he shouted at Jim, hands flying in large, wild gestures.

Jim shook his head vehemently, "I refuse to believe that!"

Krestridge took a deep, calming breath through his nose before speaking, his voice significantly softer than before. "We will discuss this complete disregard of your assignment at a later date. Until such a point in time, I do not want to see your face in my class, is that understood?"

Jim glared coldly at Krestridge, his chest heaving. For a moment it appeared to the crowd as if there was going to be a physical confrontation. The tension reached an all-out high and not even a cricket would've dared to shatter the silence that had befallen the hall.

Then suddenly it was over. Jim shook his head in frustration then stalked out of the room, the heavy wooden door slamming loudly behind him.

The mass of students sat in a disbelieving silence for a moment after Jim had left before an uproar of voices took over, even the faculty were conversing loudly with one another.

Ariana glanced questioningly at Krestridge, still standing awkwardly behind her podium. Krestridge appeared to be at a complete loss as to what he could do to quiet the hoard in front on him.

With all the excited discussions about what had just happened, no one even noticed a lone figure stand and exit the same way Jim had fled.

McCoy glanced around the empty hallway with a heavy sigh. He'd known something was up the minute Jim had stepped up to the podium. He'd **actually** known something had been going on for the past three weeks; he'd just refused to really push Jim for some answers. Unfortunately now McCoy was fairly certain he knew exactly what had been rubbing Jim the wrong way. He just wished he was wrong.

McCoy wasn't surprised to find an empty foyer, Jim having long since retreated down any one of the numerous side hallways in the linguistics building.

_'Okay.'_ McCoy thought, glancing around at a bit of a loss. _'If I were Jim, where would I be hiding?'_ He had to think about things logically. Jim would've certainly wanted to go somewhere secluded, but he most likely wouldn't have left the building. He ran the risk of running into too many people that way.

So where was the most secluded area in the entire linguistics building?

_'Duh.' _McCoy very nearly slapped his forehead when he finally thought of it. He felt so stupid that he hadn't thought of it sooner. The Klingon Wing. Hardly anyone was ever down there, only the professor and the crazy few who actually **took **that class. If Jim wasn't there he had most likely been eaten by the mythical alien dragon-cow hybrid that was supposedly living under the campus. And if he had been eaten by **that **thing then there was really nothing McCoy could do.

**A/N: So, I tried to throw in a little humor at the end there with the whole, dragon-cow thing. I fought with myself a lot over that little tid-bit but I eventually decided to leave it (obviously) for a line in the next chapter! Sorry if it seems random or out of place. Fun fact, it was actually inspired by a university very near me; there are myths/jokes about a dragon living under the campus. But then I was like, this is Star Fleet; it can't be a **_**normal **_**dragon. So, dragon-cow hybrid! Anywho, thanks for your continued support, feedback is greatly appreciated, until next time! **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: So to make up for not posting these last two days, I will post two chapters today! And now there are only three chapters left! I'll get the other three posted ASAP, until then, please enjoy! **

_'Deep breaths.'_ Jim reminded himself, attempting to get his gasping lungs back under control. Honestly, he felt so ridiculous; he was **hiding** in the Klingon wing, back against a wall, head between his knees, sweaty hands clasped tightly behind his neck. Tarsus shouldn't even be an issue for him anymore. It had been just over a decade since he had stubbornly left the events of that planet far behind him. It almost seemed like a different lifetime.

But then that stupid project had to go and open old wounds with a vengeance, wounds he had **believed **to be long since healed.

Jim was surprised his normally acute senses didn't alert him to the fact that someone was approaching. He didn't even realize someone was next to him until their hand was on his shoulder and he was scrambling desperately to get away.

"Whoa, Jim, settle down."

It was the slight southern drawl to that voice which made Jim halt in his escape efforts. "Bones."

"Yeah."

"How'd you find me?"

"It wasn't that hard kid. I figured you would be in the most secluded area of the building. Either that or you'd been eaten by the dragon-cow thing," Bones paused a moment, considering what he'd said, then corrected, "Beast."

Jim glanced towards McCoy but didn't meet the doctor's eyes. "You know as well as I do that those rumors have never been confirmed."

The two friends sank to the ground and sat in a companionable silence for a moment before McCoy decided to breech the topic of obvious discomfort. "You were there, weren't you?"

"Is it that obvious?" Jim scoffed, avoiding McCoy's sympathetic stare almost desperately.

"To everyone except Professor Krestridge I think."

"Great." Jim's sarcastic tone was muffled slightly by his hands as he attempted to hide his face from the entire world and all the problems it brought him.

"Honestly Jim, it's not even that big a deal. Most everyone is so amazed that you stood up to the old man- that's what they're talking about."

Jim's fingers parted slightly and he starred sadly at McCoy through the small slivers. "I just don't understand how we are supposed to defend that me as if it didn't even matter." Jim gasped suddenly, clamping his mouth shut tightly before his emotions could get away from him.

"I think everyone feels the same way Jim, it's just, no one else had the balls to blatantly disregard the assignment."

"I just don't understand." Jim's body sagged to lean against the wall, hands falling to rest by his sides, and for a moment McCoy wasn't certain he'd continue. "How could someone blithely execute four thousand people? As if their lives meant nothing."

"Hell Jim, I'm a doctor not a psychiatrist."

Jim laughed, a very wet, short laugh. But his shoulders shook and his eyes crinkled up at the sides and it was the first genuine laugh McCoy had heard in weeks. "A psychiatrist **is **a doctor Bones."

"Well it's a different type of doctor!" McCoy huffed. He paused a moment, glancing at his friend with a keen eye. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

Jim's smile faded. "I thought you weren't a psychiatrist."

"I ain't. But I **am **your friend, and I'm here for you. If you want."

At first it appeared Jim was going to turn down his offer and remain adamantly silent when, finally, the man began talking. He spoke in barely more than a whisper but in the abandoned hallway he wasn't hard to hear.

"I was sent to live on the colony planet Tarsus IV when I was thirteen. I'd been getting into a lot of trouble at home. Mom was sick of the calls she kept receiving while she was across the galaxy. She told me she'd run out of options, she didn't know what else she could do." Jim stared determinedly at the wall ahead of him, his voice tinged with bitter resentment and his jaw flexing with repressed frustration. However, McCoy knew not to breech the topic of Jim's mother with a ten foot pole.

"At first it was great. For the first time in my life I was out from under the shadow my father's legacy had cast. There were no predetermined assumptions of who I should be or what I would become. The friends I made, they didn't care. They knew me was J.T, the new transfer kid from Earth." A smile ghosted its way across Jim's face, his eyes softening ever so slightly and McCoy could tell simply by looking that Jim's mind was elsewhere. "My aunt and uncle owned a little patch of farmland right on the outskirts of town. I enjoyed exploring the forested land that surrounded the colony." Jim's eyes suddenly darkened and McCoy knew what he was about to hear would not be pleasant, but they had long since passed the point of no return and even if he could turn back he wouldn't. McCoy knew Jim needed to talk about what had happened, even if the kid didn't want to admit it.

"Then the fungus came. My aunt and uncle tried to hide the problem from us kids at first but, I could tell something was wrong. From the hushed conversations and fear filled glances. Then, finally, the council told us. An unknown species of fungus had attacked and killed most of our food. Until Star Fleet brought more provisions we would be living off rations. People weren't happy, they felt helpless and they were scared. There was a lot of political unrest, certain council members didn't agree with the way the food was being distributed throughout the colony." Jim shifted his position slightly, subconsciously scooting closer to the safety and warmth emanating off McCoy's body. "Then one night we were awoken by the sound of phaser blasts and shouting from town. When things quieted down we left to see what had happened. It was the dead of night, and a lot of the lights weren't working, but we could tell the whole colony had gathered in the square. The flag the council had made was engulfed in flames and there was a figure standing in the shadows on the balcony. His voice, I will **never **forget."

Jim shuddered involuntarily and McCoy resisted the urge to wrap an arm around his shoulder comfortingly. Jim didn't need comfort just then, he needed an avid audience, someone to understand what he had been through without judging or interrupting. So that was exactly what McCoy would give him.

" 'The revolution is successful.' That's what he said. Of course, curious thirteen-year-old me was not the type to wait around patiently."

McCoy smiled solemnly at that, "Of course."

"I snuck away from my aunt and uncle to try and find out more about what was going on. I got real close to the balcony, I could actually see his face in the flickering fire light. He looked so- uncaring. Like everything he was doing wasn't even worth the energy it takes to look remorseful. One of his men began reading off names and house numbers, sending people home. The rest of us, those whose names hadn't been called, stayed in the square. We didn't really know why but, before we could really think about it he was talking again. 'The revolution is successful. But survival depends on drastic measures. Your continued existence represents a threat to the well-being of society. Your lives mean slow death to the more valued members of the colony. Therefore, I have no alternative but to sentence you to death. You execution is so ordered, signed Kodos, Governor of Tarsus IV.' Then his followers opened fire on the crowd." There was no emotion in Jim's voice, he was just reciting facts.

McCoy really didn't want to push Jim any more but he couldn't leave the story there. "How'd you get out?"

"I hit the ground a second before the shooting started. Growing up with my uncle Frank I could- well I could usually tell just before shit hit the fan."

McCoy's knuckles cracked as his hands clenched into tight fists. Hearing Jim talk about his horror stories of living with his psycho uncle always caused his blood pressure to rise.

Jim shook his head, breaking away from whatever reverie had captured his attention so vividly. "Anyway, I made my way through the crowd on my hands and knees. I had to crawl over bodies of people I'd known and I couldn't even stop to pay them any respects. I was just trying to get away from the square but as I was escaping I saw this guard about to shoot this little terrified little boy." A smile played its way across Jim's lips and his eyes softened once again. "Kevin. He was the sweetest, bravest little kid. Anyway I ended up tackling the guard, his phaser was knocked away and he hit his head real hard. I didn't stop to check if I killed him, I just grabbed Kevin and ran. I made him wait right by the edge of the forest, hidden in some shrubs, while I went back for more kids. We all hid in the woods, till Star Fleet finally came."

"How many were there?" Shock was layered across McCoy's voice. He'd known Tarsus was bad but the idea of a group of children fighting for survival in the forest was absolutely appalling.

"There were seventeen of us at first. Only eleven made it out."

"God Jim-"

"It's bad, I know." Jim interrupted, voice finally cracking under the intense emotions he had been fighting since they began the chapter. "But I **was **fine. Then we had this stupid project and Krestridge wanted us to defend that monster! After everything he'd done?"

"It's not fair." McCoy supplied after Jim remained silent for a beat too long.

"Damn right it's not." Jim sniffed, running a hand under his nose.

The two friends sat in a comfortable silence, not even counting the seconds as they ticked by. Jim sighed deeply and let his head fall against McCoy's shoulder with a slight thud. Neither of them said a word.

Then, finally, Jim's hushed broken voice pierced the veil of silence that had encompassed the two friends.

"It was so weird, all those people just, **gone**." His head lazily lifted off McCoy's shoulder and fell against the wall in defeat. "Innocent people Bones, amazing, gifted, **beautiful** people. People I knew, some just in passing but others-" Jim's voice cracked as he attempted to bury his emotions with a darting glance and a soft cough.

"Hey." McCoy leaned over and gently nudged Jim with his shoulder. "It's okay to cry you know."

Jim nodded his head and McCoy felt a warm moisture soak into the shoulder of his casual black, Star Fleet issue shirt.

Then Jim's shoulders began to shake and the muffled sounds of his crying echoed down the abandoned Klingon wing.


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning the two cadets didn't discuss the events that had transpired the night before. They didn't mention the way Jim had practically cried himself hoarse. Or the slightly bloody fingernail marks on McCoy's hands from clenching his fists so tight.

They didn't say a thing but both were grateful for each other's company, and while Jim would never admit it to anyone, McCoy was certain he was glad to have told someone else about the horrors he had lived through, relieved that he no longer had to carry that burden alone.

"So when you going in to speak with Krestridge?" McCoy questioned around a mouthful of cereal.

Jim shrugged a shoulder in response, pushing his own cereal around in the milk it was presently soaking in. McCoy was fairly certain the kid had no intentions of actually consuming any of it. "Well he said he didn't want to see me **in **class so I'll probably go in later this afternoon, after he's finished teaching for the day. He was pretty pissed, wasn't he?"

"Pissed? Jim, I honestly think he almost had an aneurism."

Jim actually grimaced at that, releasing a heavy sigh. "I didn't mean to cause trouble."

"You never do." McCoy grumbled to his spoon.

Jim didn't even acknowledge the comment. " I was just trying to prove a point, you know? Argue my opinion."

"Of which you have many."

"Hey!" Jim shouted, eyes blazing with anger not necessarily **for **McCoy but most certainly directed at him. "I will not apologize for speaking my mind!"

McCoy raised his hands at the sudden assault, the universal symbol for surrender. "Jim, I'm just stating that your mouth has gotten you into trouble before and if you don't change something, it will get you into trouble again."

"I know, you've made that point before."

"Oh have I?"

"After that bar fight last month, and the "brawl" two weeks ago on the steps of Sato Dinning Hall."

"Well it's nice to know you at least **hear** my wise suggestions. Even if you refuse to listen."

Jim dropped his spoon into his bowl with a clatter. "Bones I just- I can't always help it! Sometimes my body does things before the rational side of my brain can catch up and tell me it's a bad idea."

"You're impulsive."

"I'm spontaneous."

"Those are synonyms Einstein. Have you at least **thought **about what you're gonna say to the guy?" McCoy stood and carried both sets of dishes to the sink.

Jim waited for the grinding of the disposal to finish devouring his untouched cereal before continuing. "I was planning on winging it."

"Oh like you winged your point at the debate? Yeah that'll blow over **real** well."

"The guy says the wrong thing and my script goes out the window anyway!"

"So why make one up at all." McCoy leaned against the counter in exasperation as he watched his friend with a slightly challenging glare.

Jim simply nodded, keeping his gaze locked on the wall to McCoy's left. "Why make one up at all." He echoed quietly before standing with a sigh and heading towards the bathroom, presumably to shower before his meeting with Krestridge.

McCoy was left standing alone in their small kitchen and dining area cursing whatever god happened to be listening that his friend was even going through this. It seriously seemed to him that Jim's life was one shit storm after another and it just wasn't fair. But such was the way of life and McCoy knew Jim wouldn't be the person he had grown to care for and love had those things not happened to him.

**A/N: Another stupidly short chapter, sorry. I promise, Krestridge will get what's coming to him, in the next chapter, which I will hopefully update tomorrow! So, I don't know if they have garbage disposals in the future, or what the equivalent would be, and I'm most certainly not creative enough to make something up. They have a high-tech, futuristic garbage disposal. Deal. :) As always, I hope you enjoyed my latest installment! Until next time! **


	8. Chapter 8

Jim took a deep, reassuring breath before stepping into Professor Krestridge's office. It was just after three in the afternoon, his professor's last class had concluded approximately twenty minutes prior, allowing Jim a little leeway if a few studious students had decided to stay late to get assistance with a current assignment. He wasn't surprised to find the classroom deserted.

"Look, I'm not going to argue about me not, how did you put it: "preparing the assigned material"? So if that's what this is about I'll show myself the door." He realized that probably wasn't the best opening to their discussion but he was **not **going to finish the assignment and he wanted to make that point absolutely clear.

"Do you believe this to be some kind of joke?" Krestridge demanded from behind his desk, a PAD held firmly in one hand but its contents were all but forgotten.

Jim's breath hitched and his shoulders tensed at the man's words, but he remained adamantly silent.

"Because you seem to be treating it very trivially. Well let me tell you, **Cadet**, I was there when the relief ships arrived at the port and there was nothing **trivial** about the survivors on board those ships."

For Jim that was the absolute last straw, he'd endured enough of that man's bullshit. Here this guy was acting so stuck up, as if he believed he had some secret, insider information because he'd **seen** the survivors. Never mind that Jim had witnessed it first-hand. He was actually fairly certain he forgot to breathe for a full minute before he finally exploded. Except this was the type of explosion where he was calm and calculated, aiming his weaponry in all the right places to inflict maximum damage.

"Really? Tell me sir, do you feel some sort of privilege at what you know?" When his voice grew low and quiet most people knew to retreat, unfortunately Krestridge had nowhere to run to. "'Cause here's the thing, you may know the events that transpired on that planet, and you may know what the survivors looked like when they landed on Earth. Hell, you probably even know the words Kodos spoke before he executed four thousand people. But I'll tell you what you **don't **know." Jim's rage had finally boiled over. He was done letting that man walk all over him.

"You don't know the fear everyone felt as food rations began to disappear. You don't know the relief everyone felt when they arrived on Earth, the relief smothered by guilt because they had survived when so many others had perished." Jim's body began to literally vibrate with pent-up rage, his wide blue eyes brimming with tears he refused to shed. "And you sure as **hell **don't know what he sounded like. The uncaring look on his face as he sentenced four thousand innocent people to their death. So believe me, I find **nothing **about this topic trivial. But if you believe for even a second that I am going to defend the actions of the man who put m-" Jim bit down on his tongue, swallowing his sentence before he could divulge too much information. Judging by the shocked expression on his professor's face, however, he figured his attempts were futile. "Who put all those people through hell then you are severely mistaken."

For a moment the only sound in the room was Jim's heavy breathing. He sniffed quietly, but in the silent room it sounded like an explosion. He shifted from foot to foot nervously as Krestridge just stared at him like he was a new species of life.

"Cadet," Krestridge finally breathed, mouth agape in shock.

Jim didn't reply, he simply turned to leave, wishing to retreat from the complicated soap opera his life had become.

"Cadet!" Krestridge called after him. "James. Why did you not say anything?"

Jim halted halfway through the door; shoulders slumped in defeat, only turning his head enough so that Krestridge would be able to hear what he said. "Because I never wanted it to be about me."

It was raining outside, the cold water soothed Jim's burning temper and allowed him to calm down **before **he stepped into his apartment and was bombarded with questions by his psycho roommate.

If McCoy had asked, Jim would've stated that the water on his face was, in fact, rain drops. As it was, it didn't even matter. When Jim returned home **hours** after he should have arrived, soaking wet, and eyes raging with more thunder than the storm outside, McCoy left him alone. Even the doctor was smart enough to figure out when Jim simply needed to be alone.

**A/N: So, I suck. I was planning on updating this yesterday, I even told a few of my lovely reviewers such. But then time decided to act funny, and it all disappeared before I could complete basically anything I wanted to. So, that happened. But here it is, and now there's only one chapter to go! **


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: First off, Happy New Year! :D Okay, so here we are, finally! The last chapter! It has really been fun, and all the reviews and favorites and follows have lit up my world like you wouldn't believe! Thanks everyone for all your support, I hope you enjoy this. I also hope it's not _glaringly _obvious that I had no idea how to end this thing! :) Enjoy!**

By the time the sun had risen high enough over the horizon to snake its way through their kitchen window, Jim had been seated at the table for well over five hours. He'd been awake half the night, and any shut eye he'd been lucky enough to get had been plagued by nightmares. When he'd awoken for the third time in as many hours, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath, the sickening whispers of phaser fire and desperate pleas for help still echoing in his ears, he'd decided enough was enough and escaped to the kitchen.

It was around seven thirty when McCoy trudged in, more asleep than awake, and gladly gulped down the coffee Jim shoved his way. "How long have you been up?" The doctor questioned, grimacing at the bitter taste of the liquid running down his throat.

Jim shrugged nonchalantly, deciding to use the 'Nothing's wrong and I'm one hundred percent alright' routine. The last time he'd attempted to use that one on McCoy was after he'd gotten his drunken ass handed to him in a bar fight on his birthday. It hadn't worked then either.

"How did your chat with Krestridge go?" McCoy continued to push, but again Jim simply shrugged in reply, tracing over scuff marks on the table with one finger.

McCoy sighed heavily before pulling his chair right in front of Jim and plopping into it matter-of-factly. The doctor knew he'd been up most of the night, the dark circles under his tired, red-rimmed eyes were evidence enough. But what he **knew **didn't matter. McCoy needed to figure out how Jim was doing, mentally as well as physically, and Jim's silent shrugs in response to his questions would get him nowhere.

"Listen Jim, I'm not going to pretend that I have any idea what I'm doing here. This, what you're going through, what you **lived **through, obviously isn't something you can just get over."

"Bones, I've been living just fine for eleven years now. I'm a big boy and I can deal with my problems all by myself so thanks but-"

"Jim that's my point. I'm not gonna tell you that everything will magically be okay, or that everyone will just forget about Tarsus IV. But Jim, you don't have to deal with this alone."

Jim's tired blue eyes snapped up at McCoy with what could only be described as disbelief. "Really?"

"Of course."

"You're not, freaked out?" Jim waited with baited breath for McCoy's reply, eyes wide with genuine curiosity.

McCoy let out a tense sigh, he knew he had to choose his words carefully. "Not in the way you're thinking." He swallowed once before continuing. "Yes I am freaked out that my best friend survived the worst tragedy in interstellar history, who wouldn't be? But I haven't been scared away."

Jim's shoulders sagged with relief, as if a giant weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "I've always been afraid of telling people because once someone knows, **every**thing revolves around that. You can't ever have a regular conversation."

McCoy gave a sad nod in reply, not quite sure what to say in response. Jim's eyes were so full of fire and light, it was almost hard to see the veiled fear hidden behind it all. The kid did a good job of masking his emotions, usually with more intense emotions, but McCoy had become somewhat of an expert when it came to reading James Kirk.

"Bones." Jim grimaced, and McCoy immediately realized he'd misread the doctor's silence.

"No Jim, I'm sorry. I didn't mean- I don't know what to say. I can't promise that this topic won't ever come up again because I just can't predict that. But I'll do my best to keep everything normal between us. I just need you to promise me something in return." McCoy paused, waiting for a reply, but then added as an afterthought, "Actually, two something's."

"You ask so much of me Bones." A coy smile illuminated Jim's face and in a single instant he looked more alive than he had all morning, all month even.

"I'm serious Jim. I need you to promise to come to me if Tarsus ever becomes an issue again."

"Bones, it **won't** become an issue again. I'm just fine."

"Well there's the second promise I want you to make. If you ever **aren't** fine, no matter what the reason, I want you to come to me. Deal?"

Jim stared at McCoy's outstretched hand suspiciously before reaching out and shaking vigorously. "Deal. I am fine right now though."

McCoy smiled warily. He knew the kid was lying through his teeth, but he also knew Jim would **be **fine eventually. It would take time, and it most certainly wouldn't be easy, the soul before him was one with a very tortured past. But McCoy was a doctor, the best doctor in all Star Fleet if Jim's boasting was to be believed. And Jim was Jim. Rash and insane at times, but he was a tough, determined son of a bitch. McCoy was certainly aware of that fact. Together, there wasn't a hardship in the galaxy they wouldn't be able to overcome.

**A/N: And there we have it. Hopefully this illuminated some lights on their friendship, how they became such good friends, and just how well they understand one another. Please let me know what you think overall, and keep an eye on my profile! I have more ideas for this fandom in the future, it's just the time to actually write them that I am lacking! Until next time, have a wonderful day/night! **

** -Spring **


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